Thekkady, India
It's time to leave Cochin but we almost don't make it out to the car. We load our bags into the lift and descend but all of a sudden the lights go out and we come to a juddering halt. We press the alarm button but there's no response. Seems like there's a full-on power cut!!
We stay as calm as possible, any panic eased away by our new found powers of meditation, but there's a palpable sense of relief when the lights flick back on and we continue our descent. We're outta that lift in a second the minute the doors open.
As we start our five hour drive we ask Tensing to quickly stop at the Basilica of Santa Cruz, which we had spotted last night by the Kathakali theatre. It's by no means as historic as St Francis Church but it's five times as impressive, a huge white cathedral with an ornately decorated interior. A quick couple of pics later and we're on our way.
The journey out of Cochin takes almost an hour. Whilst Fort Kochi itself is small enough to potter around with ease, the wider environs stretch for miles. We cross the man-made Wellington Island and drive through Ernakulam, the hub of business with its rapidly growing condominiums. It's a little like Miami with gleaming apartment blocks by the water's edge as we weave over bridges and waterways.
Billboards advertise these des-res to the IT workers, civil servants, businessmen and Gulf workers all of whom are newly rich and looking to invest in high-rise properties.
Tensing pops on some music for us, his favourite Malayalam hits which are beautifully melodious and very chilled. It's the perfect soundtrack as we head out of the city and into the countryside.
Unlike our previous white-knuckle experiences of driving in India, Kerala seems remarkably civilised with everyone obeying the rules of the road. Apparently the government are very strict with enforcing seatbelt, helmet and road safety laws with heavy fines for those who disobey, although Tensing reveals that most of the fines end up as bribes in policemen's pockets. Either way, road fatalities in Kerala are far lower than most other states.
As we travel through more rural areas, we start crossing backwaters and seeing rubber plantations, banana trees, fields of pineapples, tall tapioca plants and rice paddies being harvested. Unlike other areas of India there are hardly any cows, although the odd one does wander the streets. Apparently even Hindus in Kerala will eat beef but only from bulls and oxen, never from cows which they still consider sacred.
While the odd Hindu shrine sits besides the road, they are scarce compared to the proliferation of churches and Christian shrines to various saints. Even the trucks have names like Jesus and St Joseph emblazoned across them.
In fact Kerala is vastly different to our previous Indian adventures, being reminiscent of Goa but a world away from everywhere else we've been. It's not just the lush vegetation but the standard of living we see. There's nowhere near the levels of poverty here, with lots of big and beautiful houses, new cars on the road, towns like Pala with pet grooming salons, garden centre, beauty salons and shiny shopping malls.
There's even adverts all along the roads for matrimonial agencies; matchmaking, brokering, planning, you name it. If you're gonna get married, it's going to be huge. And expensive! Tensing tells us that these agencies are now amongst the fastest growth industries in India, but doesn't say whether he used one to meet his wife. I ask him if his wife also works and he firmly says no, she's a housewife and I realise I must have insulted him. He's the breadwinner for the family driving people like us around, and he provides enough income so his wife can look after their daughter. Better give him a good tip!
We stop for lunch at a roadside restaurant called Farm Fest near the town of Chotty. For less than a fiver we get a vegetable curry, vegetable korma, daal fry, mango lassi and passion fruit soda. It's absolutely delicious, tastier than Brunton last night and about an eighth of the price. What mugs we are!
Tensing decides it's time for a change of music after we've eaten and switches to his collection of Hindi music. It's far livelier than the Malayalam collection, and almost reminiscent of the theme tune to Hawaii 5-0.
This dramatic soundtrack coincides with our drive climbing higher and higher. The roads become more potholed as we zig zag up the side of mountains, our ears popping with altitude and our eyes with both the breathtaking, vertiginous views and some of the crazy overtaking that's now started to happen, not least from Tensing who overtakes buses as we fly round blind corners, his horn loud enough to wake the dead.
As we rise into the clouds we start seeing tea and coffee plantations and trees growing black pepper, nutmeg and cardamom. Various men start appearing, walking barefoot along the road and Tensing tells us they're Hindu pilgrims, walking hundreds of miles to a nearby holy place.
By mid afternoon, as we pass through absolutely gorgeous countryside, we begin the approach to our destination, stopping first at the village of Periyar, where the Connemara Tea Factory is located. It seems apt considering Coman grew up only an hour's drive from Connemara, in Ireland. Apparently it was an Irishman who founded the factory, but local myth also suggests the factory was named after the Virgin Mary, or "conna mara" in Malayalam.
We are given a whistle stop tour of the factory, watching the women unload their bags of freshly picked tea leaves to be weighed, averaging 40 kilos a time which they carry on their heads. That's just roughly two thirds what Coman and I both weigh and we can't even get them off the ground, let alone lift them on to our heads and carry them through fields. No wonder the women look at us with pity!
Our guide to the factory is a middle aged gentleman with a bristling moustache and an, at times, incomprehensible accent. He leads us around showing us the wilting, tearing, crushing, drying and oxidising machines with great enthusiasm and brewing us a pot of fresh tea before asking if we can give him a lift to our final destination, Thekkady.
Tensing is happy to have him along for the ride and in return we get an extra history lesson, detailing how tea was smuggled by a British agent in real James Bond style from China to Assam in India in the 1830s, sparking the Opium Wars. The Keralans started growing tea in the 1870s with the Connemara factory established in 1941. To be honest, it doesn't look to have been updated since.
We drop the tea guide off at the side of the road in the town of Thekkady and after a few more twists and turns pull off the main road onto a dirt track at the end of which we are greeted by a sign announcing the Shalimar Spice Gardens, our home for the next two nights.
A wooden bridge leads to the thatched reception hall where we are ushered to be greeted with the obligatory cold flannels and watermelon juice. Porters carry our luggage over the walkway to our very own thatched cottage and once settled in we go for a walk around the grounds.
The hotel is an eco-lodge, set in rainforested jungle with beautiful gardens full of exotic spice plants and an Ayurvedic spa to boot. We settle in, and then head over to the restaurant for dinner. In honour of the uniquely fabulous Keralan people I opt for a beef ularthiyathu, which is a dry and spicy dish while Coman, fancying a bit of a change orders a mildly disappointing mushroom pasta.
It's been a long day and we have a 6am start for a boat safari in the morning, so we hit the sack soon after 10pm, the sounds of local wildlife and general jungle chatter sending us to sleep.
But oh, those damn mosquitos...
